Happy Belated Whatever
by Xeen Cyr
Summary: this is a Happy Birthday Peter fic... sort of ;


**FRINGE**

**Happy Belated****… Whatever**

_No copyright inFRiNGEment intended._

_Note: as requested by _wjobsessed, _this is a H__appy Birthday Peter fic in honour of Josh Jackson's birthday which was 6/11… _I hope you like it ;) ONE SHOT

_-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-_

Walter's face melt under stress and his hands went out of control and traced cabalistic signs into the air. He turned around and hurried back to his bench.

"You don't understand agent Dunham…" She flinched and Dr. Bishop backpedalled and corrected absently, "… you can't Olivia, this is merely a mission that is all mine."

A deep crease forming on his forehead, he nodded nervously in a useless attempt to regain a poised composure. _Good god, he knew he could do it_. He had been somehow aware that he was slowly returning to being his normal self, should normalcy apply here, and he was positive that today –of any day, he was experiencing an unexpected relapse. Adamant to fight this impending obstacle, he gritted his teeth and braced himself against any forthcoming rebuff from the two women assisting him. Were they his assistants? Yes, one of them definitely was. The other one, he was not so certain at this moment. His vision of her was blurred and her place in their dysfunctional group unsure. _But Peter likes her_.

"A mission? I don't understand."

She wouldn't let go obviously. He winced and placed his two hands flat on the desk. Bent over his notes, he waited for his panic attack to recede. _Peter likes her therefore she can be trusted. _He closed his eyes.

"Are you okay Walter?" Olivia tilted her head, half noticing his inner turmoil. She'd been busy with reconciling or putting to rest a hundred loose ends over the last days and had lost her imperfect touch at reading Walter's signs.

"What mission? What have you done Walter?" Astrid chimed in. It was as long as she could wait before stepping in and interrupting their conversation. She looked more worried than annoyed. She'd been watching their complicate ballet and wanted to know what was going on, and she wanted to know now. She'd had plenty of time to getting used to Walter's idiosyncrasies over the past year, but today it was different. That was a new variation in his vast display of lunacies. She could feel his anguish building in from across the lab. She patted his shoulder and leaned to him, afraid to invade his personal space. "Walter?" No, she had every right to intrude, Walter was her friend and he was aching.

He looked up to her and his mouth twitched into a poor smile. "I'm getting paid to do… all this, right?" He was trembling now. He swept the lab with a hesitant hand.

"Of course you are!" Astrid stood up, relieved that his agitation was only the product of some petty concern.

"This is fantastic news!" His expression changed from suicide candidate to Nobel Prize recipient. "Well then, you must know that I spared no expense." He straightened up, chin raised up, letting go of his despair as of a second skin, suddenly reborn into this ecstatic demiurge. "Last week I bought an over the top wine cellar to store our Champagne crates and…"

"Crates?" asked Olivia with that _now we're going somewhere_ look on her face. Whatever Walter got mixed up into, Champagne was always a good thing in her book. Maybe, just maybe for this one time, she won't have to rain on his parade.

"Yes, and rest assured they are kept in a secured place," he added in a conspiratorial mode. "I've arranged for invitations to be sent. I chose a blue heavy glossy paper and I printed them myself in this very lab! You won't believe what anybody can do these days with a simple printer and a bit of imagination." He was grinning now, and prancing from one bench to another. "I selected the clothes we are going to wear, I had to infer your size of course but I'm sure I shall be quite happy with the result." He gave them both an appreciative look. "I bet they would fit perfectly. Did I tell you about this woman I once met in Laredo? She had the most marvellous elbows and her…"

"Walter you were saying something about clothes?" Olivia insisted.

"Clothes? Oh yes, absolutely! Yes, yes, and I arranged for a rented grand piano, I ordered cakes well in advance from that famous place in Boston I'm sure you've heard about. Only I forgot its name… I wish I could remember whether I chose chocolate or strawberry too…"

"Cakes? Wait a minute. What exactly do you plan to celebrate, Walter?" Olivia interrupted. "And where is this big event of yours going to take place?" Despite her mild irritation at Walter's cheerful invasion in her agenda, strangely she felt happy for him.

"Right here, it's fantastic, huh?" he rejoiced, joining hands in elation.

"You mean, right here, like in the lab right here? No, no, that's impossible, you can't Walter," she explained with a higher pitch in her voice at the prospect of having to cancel whatever he had so carefully planned, "certainly you do remember that you signed a confidentiality agreement?" she said very calmly, memories of her first week working with him, a time that seemed eons ago, flashing in the back of her mind.

He furrowed his brow, puzzled by her last words. "Of course not, this place is way too small," he concurred flatly. "Actually, it will take place here in Harvard, only on the other side of the College campus. I planned this whole evening with some old friends, colleagues of mine so to speak. We arranged to have the old building to ourselves, tomorrow starting at six, sharp!" He was swelling with pride. Soon a shadow fluttered in his eyes and his mood changed. "I had absolutely no knowledge of a bank account open in my name or of the existence of any savings. You understand that asking Peter was out of the question, so I was obliged to expense the costs on the Bureau instead. I swear I was going to tell you agent Dunham!"

She didn't try to conceal her smile. "Walter, it's all right, I need you to focus and answer my question."

"Certainly my dear." He stared at her very matter-of-factly and stopped moving and talking.

"So?" she prompted.

"You asked a lot of questions these last few minutes. Surely you don't expect me to read your mind and pick the right one," he snapped dryly, eliciting a disapproving look from Astrid who folded her arms on her chest and sighed. This was one of those days when no one else but Peter could make heads or tails of Walter's elaborate train of thoughts and decipher his gibberish. Olivia was perched on the corner of his bench now and he was doing his best not to lock eyes with her, sagged on his stool and staring at his shoes and laces, his hands in his lap, fingers restless on his lab coat.

"Why should we be invited to a party you organized with your friends?"

"Why wouldn't you be invited, that is preposterous!" He jumped from his chair and began pacing between the two women. He finally leaned towards Olivia and, lowering his voice and glancing around, he said softly. "You absolutely, definitely must come: this is a surprise party, you see."

Olivia's eyebrows rocketed to her hair line and Astrid shook her head and gave him a warning look. He glared sheepishly and shifted from foot to foot. Finally he opened his mouth but decided against explaining any further and returned to brooding. Turning his back on them, he shoved his hands deep inside his pockets and started mumbling to himself punctuating his sentences with rapid head movements.

"Walter, this is getting old," Astrid said in a menacing tone.

"You mmm…"

"Excuse me?"

"You forgot," he blurted out, his shoulders dropping to his chest, "you did not remember." He shrugged and he made a show at appearing devastated for their benefit. "I cannot believe that you, of all people, could simply forget. I'm very disappointed in you agent Dunham and you, huh… agent Asteroid." Sulking ostensibly, he thumbed through a bunch of papers on a desk and instantly got engulfed back in his work.

Olivia's nose wrinkled slightly and she silently gave Astrid an inquisitive glance. "I have no idea," her assistant mouthed back with a shrug. Olivia took a deep breath and came to the bench. Walter immediately looked away. "I know you're pretending I'm not here Walter. Please, I'm sorry I forgot."

He spun toward her. "No you're not. I thought you were his friend. He likes you. He was really worried when you were missing. Really worried."

"Yes I know he was. So please? You're organizing a surprise party…" as she was talking, she had an epiphany, "for Peter's birthday."

Walter shot her a side glance and returned to reading his files.

"I thought it was last Thursday," she continued in a neutral tone. "So I took it that you were the non-celebrating type and I didn't bother to mention it."

"You don't understand! Peter doesn't know that I remember when his birthday is and he's probably thinking right this minute that I am still the same self absorbed son of a bitch I once was." He nodded with exaggerate sobriety. "I read my file."

Olivia heard Astrid giggling but managed to keep a straight face. "I don't understand."

"He mentioned not so long ago that he had found common ground with the one percent American men who despise Christmas or hate barbecuing. He said that the very idea of roasting, broiling, or grilling any kind of meat or fish over live coals is a disgrace for the human kind."

"I still don't understand. What has it got to do with anything?"

"He made it also clear that he hated celebrations of all kind, especially birthday parties. I gather this is to prevent us from throwing him a party…"

"You planned a birthday party for Peter when you knew he was five hundred percent against it?"

"On the contrary, tomorrow I throw him a _non-birthday_ party," he cheered. "This is totally different. We're not celebrating anything. Hence his birthday cannot be the issue, and if we're lucky, he might even like it… eventually." He looked at her expectantly.

"If we're lucky? You understand that I have nothing to do with this party Walter, except for the financing part…"

His mouth twitched. He raised his hands, fingers restless, breathing to a minimum.

"I'll go," she smiled, taunting him, "to the party. I'll be there."

He stared, speechless. _She agreed. Maybe he was imagining everything_. In the event it could be the case, he mulled over pinching himself.

"I'll go, and I'm pretty sure that Astrid wouldn't want to let you down either."

Astrid nodded with a bright smile. "You can count me in Walter. This is going to be fun."

"This is great, this is really great. You won't regret a thing," Walter erupted with utter delight. "It is going to be perfect. I will show you your dresses now." He dramatically opened his desk drawer and produced two large bags.

"You were not kidding? You really bought us dresses? My god, it feels like going to prom again!" Astrid exclaimed, preying on the bags.

Olivia went beet red and took the bag Astrid was holding her out. She peeked inside and was rewarded by a glimpse of gold and red. Fabulous, Walter had decided to turn her into Maid Marianne. Reluctant to take the dress out of the bag, she took a deep breath and was about to thank him when her cell phone rang. Dr. Bishop's face went blank when he heard the corny ring tone. _Was it appropriate for an FBI agent's cell phone?_ That was opening new perspectives…

"Olivia? You're a _Dawson's Creek_ fan?" her assistant asked with a smirk.

"Not if I can help it," was her lame excuse. "It's my sister's idea of a goodbye present. She thinks that Peter looks like this guy on this teen show." She blushed even more, realizing she was giving away willingly too much information. "Never mind, sorry, I got to take this. Olivia Dunham," she said.

She watched a laughing agent Astrid Farnsworth running to the rest room to change under Walter's proud scrutiny and pressed her cell to her ear, turning away from him.

"Olivia, can you hear me? Guess what? I'm calling you from Maine. Walter sent me to retrieved two suitcases from one of his caches… Hello?"

"I hear you Peter, loud and clear."

"You wouldn't believe what's inside."

"Were you supposed to look inside? Never mind, shoot," she chuckled.

"You wouldn't find out if you tried. White tie, black tie, tuxedo, evening shoes, you name it. The old fool made me drive more than a hundred miles to get some old musty rumpled clothes that don't even fit any more. Go figure."

"Really?" Now she understood why Peter hasn't been around the last couple of days. Walter sent him away.

"But the fact is, that got me thinking. I know I'm not one of your top priorities, but the day before yesterday, it was my birthday."

She grinned.

"I didn't expect you to remember such a futile date, but…"

"Yes?"

"I did a lot of driving lately, thanks to my lunatic of a father, and that gave me the opportunity to reflect on the passing of time, blah, blah, blah. So here's what I came up with. What about a fancy diner at a seafood restaurant on the coast, just two friends celebrating a birthday?"

"Are you asking me out?"

"Well, I won't put it this way, but now that you mention it, I guess I am."

"Okay."

"Okay?" he sounded genuinely surprised. "Okay. So let's say tomorrow, seven-ish, I'll pick you up at seven, your place?"

"Oh… tomorrow?" she did her best to sound disappointed.

"I sense a hitch."

"No, no hitch, merely an unfortunate setback."

"A setback?"

"I'm already engaged otherwise. Actually, it's a cocktail party. Work related, you know the kind, but I got to be there. If you're up to the challenge, and happen to have evening clothes handy, you could probably accompany me. It would not be two friends celebrating," she said, quoting him, "but…"

"Say no more, it's totally right down my alley. It's a date. I'll pick you up at your place tomorrow. Seven?"

"Make it five thirty."

"Will do. See you tomorrow then."

Olivia turned back to Walter. Astrid was emerging from the restroom in a swirl of yellow chiffon looking like a meringue on top of a wedding cake. "Well, it seems that we won't have to lure Peter out of the lab under false pretence," she shrugged, her poker face on.

Walter's smile immediately vanished. "He is not coming back?" he moaned. "Tell me agent Dunham, Peter is my son, I have the right to know if anything bad happened to him."

"Of course Walter, you have every right to know. Peter is fine. He's just pissed off that you made him go on a treasure hunt. But you got me all wrong," she beamed, "it seems that Peter just invited himself to his secret birthday bash."

-o-

_I hope you like it, please review!!_


End file.
